Deskwork
by Lilly McShepin
Summary: “Why is everybody looking at me?” Neal asked, his eyes flickering back and forth before finally settling on Peter.
1. Chapter 1

**This is just a tiny little snippet that struck me. I don't really know how I feel about it - but at the same time I like it... so... yeah. **

* * *

"W hy is everybody looking at me?" Neal asked, his eyes flickering back and forth before finally settling on Peter. _Am I in trouble? _Peter almost smiled at the silent question in the conman's blue eyes.

_No. _He indicated with the smallest shake of the head. Neal visibly relaxed, his stance once more reflecting confidence (whether it was real or not – not even Peter could tell) – and successfully concealing whatever further befuddlement he was feeling.

"It's good to have you back, Caffrey." Hughes said finally – his eyes flickering from Neal's face to Neal's shoulder. Neal shifted uncomfortably, his eyes once more darting to Peter.

_What do I do?_

The corners of Peter's lips quirked up ever so slightly in a smile as he stepped forward and took a stand next to Neal. He clapped a hand on Neal's shoulder – _left, not right_ – "Come on Neal – its deskwork today."

Neal grimaced. "Fine." He grumbled as he was led away to Peter's familiar office. "But you have to buy the coffee."

"I'll think about it." Peter objected.

Neal nudged Peter lightly. "It's either the coffee or lunch."

"I'll buy the coffee." Peter amended, grinning, as they disappeared into his office.

Hughes clapped his hands. "Alright people!" He shouted. "Get back to work!" The agents around him all started moving at his words – turning computers on, searching through files – everything normal… except for the occasional, respectful glance somebody would send up to the office their best agent and his 'pet conman' had gone to.

The conman couldn't be all that bad. Hell – anybody that would take a bullet for a witness under protection was alright in their book.

* * *

**I just like writing little WC moments. Please review.**


	2. Chapter 2

**I am completely and utterly exhausted - so I don't really know how this turned out. I just wanted some Neal & Peter comfort-warm-fuzzy moments. And - since there are so few WC fics that I actually like, I had to write one myself.**

* * *

Peter deliberated for a moment before setting the hat down on the foot of the hospital bed. He glanced around the small room – eyeing with faint distaste the pale coloring of the walls and furniture. Neal hated white upon white variations, preferring the darker and bolder color schemes. The conman stuck out like a sore thumb in the plainly decorated hospital room. _Neal – shouldn't – be – in – here._

Peter pulled one of the chairs close to the side of the bed and sat down, looking quietly at the man lying beneath the starch sheets. Neal's face was painfully pale – his black hair and lashes almost obscenely dark in comparison. Peter resisted the sudden urge to smooth the curly tangles of hair back away from his partners face. There was no need to do so… but Neal just looked so _fragile…_

"Peht… der…?" Neal mumbled suddenly – his eyebrows furrowing together questioningly. Peter jerked in surprise – he hadn't expected Neal to wake up…

"Hey Neal." Peter said softly, smiling despite all of it. Neal was awake. He was going to be alright. Everything would be back to normal soon enough – right after a well deserved rest for a certain FBI consultant...

Neal's eyelids fluttered tiredly before finally opening, the blue irises dull and glazed.

"They h've got me drug…gehd up to my eyh-bahlls… h'ven't they?" Neal mumbled, his words heavily slurred. Peter wondered with slight amusement if Neal would even remember this later. He decided it didn't matter.

"Yeah." Peter confirmed, his voice automatically softening so as to not disturb Neal if the conman decided to drift back to his drug-induced sleep. "They got you pretty good, Abernathy."

"Hmpbh…" Was the half-hearted reply. Neal had closed his eyes again. "Are you… guhoing tuh leahve…?" Neal slurred.

Peter snorted and patted Neal's arm – _when had his hand gotten there? _"Nah, I'm not going anywhere." He reassured him firmly.

"Guhd…" Neal mumbled before sighing softly, finally drifting back to sleep. Peter smiled fondly – before finally giving into the insatiable urge to smooth back Neal's hair.

"I'm not going anywhere, Neal." He repeated softly. "I'm staying right here."

* * *

**I think I'm going to have several more little moments like this placed under "Deskwork" - which will eventually explain the circumstances under which Neal was shot. So - I guess I will have to 'un-complete' this. Dang it.**

**Please review.**

***yawn***


End file.
